


Star Crossed

by keep_me_alone



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV), Smallville, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Big Gay Love Story, Boys In Love, Bruce is gonna get misgendered and deadnamed like everyother chapter so just like be aware of that, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Eventual Romance, Homophobia, Love, M/M, Misgendering, No Smut, Party, Real life trans things tbh, Romance, Romeo and Juliet AU, Teen Angst, Teenage AU, Teenagers, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Underage Drinking, bruce is trans, clark is bisexual, more characters later - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-02-19 16:09:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_me_alone/pseuds/keep_me_alone
Summary: Bruce Wayne attends prestigious Capulet Academy. Clark Kent goes to Montague High, the school on the edge of Gotham. Neither of them care much about their school's rivalry, but their families' distaste for each other has deeper roots. Bruce Wayne is something of a family secret, a transgender boy whose family would rather he just vanish, but can't seem to let go of the daughter they never had. Clark Kent is a bisexual cis boy with friends in strange places. He must learn to navigate these relationships or risk losing everything he's worked so hard for.(I'm still writing this btw, just some of the writing is coming out non-linearly bc like Plot and stuff)





	1. Act 1 Scene 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers & triggers for the story here:  
> ******  
> basically a queer retelling of Romeo and Juliet, I'm going to stick to the script pretty close at the beginning, but I don't wanna have this end as badly for Bruce and Clark because queer people don't always need to die. There will be death and angst though, don't worry. Also worth noting that I'm a panro trans person so uh its for sure more sensitive than it could be, but there are a lot of cishet people being shitty in this story  
> ***** 
> 
> Some kinds of Gotham things, but like mostly side characters like Jim Gordon and Nygma, Selina is a deaged comic version, not the one in Gotham, Bruce is also different, idk about Alfred yet. Anyways this is gonna be interesting, I'm figuring it out as I go along. 
> 
> Plus they're all a little different occasionally to fit the story a little, and also bc they're gd teenages lmao

Two households, both alike in dignity,  
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,  
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,  
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

 

Gotham City

 

Gotham's sun sets slowly over the skyline, staining the clouds a bright, bloody red. It is a strange time of day in a strange part of the city,  and not many people are out. A pair of students from Gotham's elite private school, Capulet Academy, are lounging against grimy brick. The girl is smoking, knowing that men are looking at her in her short skirt and stockings. She thinks she looks cool. Barbara Gordon is talking to Edward Nygma as she smokes.

"I think I'd probably fuck someone from Montague," she says conversationally, savouring the taste of the curse and the cigarette. She's fourteen, and Ed, who is eighteen is habitually nervous, currently uncomfortable with this topic of conversation. "That Kent boy, Whitney," she pauses deliberately, "Lana?" She suggests. Ed fidgets, unsure how to handle the insinuation of her sexuality. He spends a lot of time wanting to leave. He wants to right now,  but he's worried about Barbara, so instead he fidgets and avoids her gaze.

"How do you even know all these people?" He asks, pushing up his glasses. He knows who Clark Kent is; his father is one of the loudest environmental activists in Gotham, but the others are a mystery.

"I go to the football games," Barbara says airily, flicking ash. "Speaking of." A beat up black car drives down the road, slowing as it passes them. Barbara gives them the finger. The car stops.

"What are you doing?" Demands Ed in a panicked whisper.

"Did you just flip us off?" Asks a girl with choppy blonde hair. It is Chloe Sullivan, part of Clark Kent's crowd and a student journalist at Montague.

"Is the school gonna be on my side if I get in a fight here?" Barbara asks Ed, ignoring her.

"No," he squeaks. Barbara turns back to Chloe.

"I mean I flipped off someone, but it wasn't you," she says, grinning.

"What you wanna go?" Chloe asks. She unfastens her seat belt.

"Nah, but it seems like you do." Barbara replies, drowning out Ed's hurried 'no'.

"Isn't that just like a Cap," Chloe says half to the boy driving and half to Ed and Barbara, "Running from a fight they started."

"Get out here and say that to my face," Barbara snaps. Chloe takes out her earrings and gets out of the car, leaving the door open. Barbara crushes her cigarette under one sensible heel.

Chloe throws herself on Barbara, yelling, grabbing at hair. Barbara sinks her teeth into Chloe's arm, and pushes at her with her free hand. The driver, Pete Ross, jumps out and runs over.

"Knock it off," Pete shouts, hauling on Chloe's shoulder, trying to pull her back. The girls separate, chests heaving, hair mussed. "Come on Chloe we have shit to do."

"Typical Montagues, afraid get your hick asses beat by a few prep school kids?" Selina Kyle appears from a nearby alleyway. She's seventeen, a year older than Chloe and Pete. She is wearing head to toe black, the same colour smudged around her eyes.

"I'm trying to break this up," Pete tells her. "Go away or help me end this."

"I'd rather end you," Selina says, smirking. She throws a punch that catches Pete square in the jaw. He falls backwards, losing his grip on Chloe who jumps on Selina. The five of them, Ed included, are laying into each other. More students nearby hear the commotion and come from down the streets and buildings to join in. Selina sees Bruce Wayne getting into it, and knows there's going to be trouble. His parents are the major sponsors for most city institutions. She's surprised that they haven't named the school after the Waynes yet, if she's being honest.

Bruce is gleeful for all of three minutes. He throws himself into the fight with reckless abandon, almost immediately getting punched in the face. He scrambles on the ground, buffeted by the noise and feet around him. He drags someone down and starts wrestling with them. He feels powerful and strong and free until he hears it. His father enraged and screaming the wrong name. The name Bruce hears only as Disgrace. It catches him off guard and he is pinned, someone he doesn't know hitting his head against the wet pavement.

Things move slowly and in ways they shouldn't. From a distance that feels like ten deep metres of water, he hears his father calling for his private security team. Bruce tries to struggle up, doesn't make it and his cheek falls onto the street again. The security team has tasers, guns, batons. Lethal force.  He has to stop it. Through the noise he can hear Jonathan Kent yelling, pulling people out of the fight. Jonathan pulls Bruce up by the collar just as a police cruiser drives up, sirens blaring to stop in front of the fray. Everyone begins to calm, moving away from each other as Jim Gordon steps out of the car and slams the door.

"So what?" He asks, folding his arms, "this school feud so bad we got teenagers killing each other in the streets? Dragging adults into this?" He raises his eyebrows at the Waynes and Kents. "Get the fuck out of here before I have you all arrested for disturbing the peace. Next time we're laying charges."

Jonathan quickly lets go of Bruce, lest someone think that he was hitting the kid. He looks around, Martha has gotten out of their truck and is kneeling next to Chloe, brushing hair out of her face. He really does love her. Thomas Wayne is in Gordon's face, yelling about suing someone. Of course he is. Clark doesn't seem to be anywhere around, which he is grateful for. Clark doesn't need to be mixed up in this.

"Take her home," Jonathan calls to Martha, who glances up and nods seriously. He sees Pete leaning against Chloe's idling car and goes to him. "Pete." The kid looks up, slightly dazed. "Come on. I'll drive you home." He takes Pete over to his old truck, watches him enter before he gets in himself. Pete seems ok, just a little shaken up. That's probably normal, it was quite a brawl.

Jonathan concentrates on getting them out of the mess and on their way back to the edge of town where most of the Montague kids live.

"Tell me what happened."

"Chloe and I didn't start it, sir." Pete says, looking at Jonathan who is focusing on the road. "The cop's kid started it. Chloe got out of the car and I got out to separate them, when Selina showed up. I tried to get her to help me, but she hit me! Out of nowhere!" He's getting agitated, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "And then I dunno it was just kind of a mess until Officer Gordon showed up." He shrugs.

"Have you seen Clark today? He wasn't there."

"We were actually on our way to your house. We were supposed to study together tonight."

"You didn't answer the question," Jonathan reminds him, adjusting their couse towards his own house instead of Pete's.

"Well," Pete hesitates. "When I was on the bus this morning, I saw him heading into the woods. I don't know what's up. He's been being really weird lately."

"Yeah," Jonathan agrees. "Well if you can get anything out of him, it'll be more than Martha and I could do." They drive up the dirt road to the Kent farm, which is so far out of the city it doesn't really even count as Gotham anymore. Jonathan parks.

"There he is," says Pete, nodding in Clark's direction.

"I'll leave you two alone." Jonathan says as he yanks open the door.

"I'll get to the bottom of this, Mr Kent," Pete promises, getting out of the car. He jogs to catch up with Clark as Jonathan disappears into the house.

"Hey Clark."

"Hey, was that my dad?" Clark asks, steering them towards the barn. It's warmer inside without the breeze.

"Yeah he gave me a ride." Pete replies, climbing the old stairs up to the loft.

"Where's Chloe?" Pete sighs.

"I think she's coming with Mrs. Kent. There was kind of a fight." He drags an old chair to Clark's table which he immediately puts his feet on. Clark stands across from him with his arms folded.

"Well, is she ok?" He asks. Pete shrugs.

"Yeah probably. It was her own fault."

"Chloe started it?" Clark asks incredulously.

"Yeah I don't know, some school thing." Clark makes a face. It is well known that he has no interest in the school rivalry. He walks to the window and leans on his elbows. This far up he can see over the treetops to Lana's house. The cool spring wind washes over him. It smells of flowers and sweet hay. Clark sighs.

"What's wrong with you?" Pete asks, "you catch  something?" Clark half turns.

"It's more about not having caught, honestly." Pete rolls his eyes.

"Are you still on about Lana?" He pauses a beat, then interupts Clark's reply. "And I know there's a sex joke in there, but don't you dare." Clark scowls.

"I wasn't going to."

"Uh huh," Pete grins. "Come on dude, she's not interested."

"How can she be? She doesn't know I exist!" Clark exclaims.

"Yeah, she's also engaged to Whitney." Clark huffs and turns back to the window. "Look there's a big ass party at Wayne Manor tonight. We'll go. I'll find you someone cute." Clark raises both of his eyebrows.

"You know my dad's never gonna go for that. And after that fight today? This is a bad idea."

"It'll be fine," Pete assures him, "I have an invitation because people actually like me-,"

" _Your_  father isn't an environmental activist," Clark interupts.

"And it's gonna be full of hot girls in sexy dresses," Pete carries on like Clark hadn't spoken. "And I bet you ten bucks I can find you someone prettier than Lana."

"Fine," Clark agrees. He's a little irritated that they're arguing about Lana like it's just her looks he's after, and not that she's perfect in every conceivable way. "You can't just replace her." He protests, but Pete just snorts.

"Yeah, we'll see about that." And it's not that Pete really thinks that Clark's going to try and break up her engagement, but he doesn't want Clark to get involved, because this could get messy, and Lana deserves better than to get hurt by Clark's teenage hormones. It seems like finding him someone else is the safest course. 


	2. Act 1 Scene 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the formatting I wrote this on my phone

Wayne Manor

Thomas Wayne is leaning back in his chair, looking out the picture window in his office and back across the grounds of Wayne Estate. This is his castle. The crown of the empire he's built.

There's a knock on the door and Wayne turns around. Lionel and Lex Luthor enter the room. Lionel sits in the chair across the desk, and Lex loiters behind him.

"Thank you both for meeting me," Wayne says. Lionel nods, Lex murmurs pleasantries. "I'm sure you've figured out why I've asked you here, Lionel," Wayne says casually. Lex bristles at the slight, but keeps it off his face.

"Together we own controlling shares of most of Gotham," Lionel replies with some humour, "there's a lot you could want with me." He casually leans back into the soft brown leather of his chair.

"But with Lex as well?" Wayne counters. Lionel shrugs. He's still curious to see whether his guess was off."I'm thinking of ways we can ensure a future for both our companies," Thomas says. "One where neither company would need to overtake the other." Lex is impassive, but Lionel smiles thinly. He's thought of this before, but the time has not been right. He knows what Thomas means. Lex does not. He has an idea, but he doesn't like it, and doesn't want to entertain it.

"You mean," Lionel says, "A way to unite the companies without merging them." Lex's bad feeling is growing stronger. "It would be quite helpful regarding monopoly and tax laws." Lionel says speculatively.

"I thought you might agree," Thomas says. "It won't be hard to work around them." Lionel believes he means the laws and not the children, who are sure to be a hassle.

"So Lex," Lionel says, half turning.

"Father," Lex replies stiffly.

"I need you-, the company needs you, to marry Thomas Wayne's daughter." His tone is deceptively casual.

"I'm not going to marry a seventeen year old," Lex balks.

"I will permit you to wait a year, of course. We wouldn't want even the suggestion of impropriety." Lionel continues. He speaks to Lex almost as if he isn't there, assuming that Lex will sublimate his desires to his will.

"Absolutely not." Lionel sighs. He is a smart man. He expected this.

"Son, you know how this is going to play out," he says, masking his impatience with an affected good nature. "You say you won't, I threaten to disenherit you, eventually things _will_  go my way." Thomas is curious. They seem to have forgetten him, but he also knows they both must be acutely aware of his presence. This is an act that has been replayed countless times in infinite variations.

"A year," Lex says firmly. "Give me a year." He will find a way out of this. For his sake and for Wayne's. They will not be getting married.

"Fine," Lionel agrees, confident that he will ultimately out manoeuvre his son. He turns to Thomas. "You see? It just needs time."

Thomas smiles, "I am willing to be patient." And he is. In his mind this is a new plan, an idea he got from Martha a month or so ago. In reality, she has been planning this for years.

"I take it that's all you needed me for?" Lex asks acerbically. 

"Your father and I have some things to discuss." The condescension in Wayne's tone is clear. Lex gives him a cold, hard look and leaves without saying anything else.

As Lex is leaving, he passes the library's open door. Bruce is reading a book there, only just visible. He looks up as Lex passes and they make brief, intense eye contact. Lex wonders if he knows. Bruce stares, but Lex ducks his head and keeps walking. He can't talk about this right now.

Lex slips out a side door without seeing anyone else. He gets into the bright red two door he'd driven over. Lex doesn't hesitate, he straps himself in and peals out of the driveway, flinging gravel as he goes.

Lex pushes the car hard, whipping around tight corners, feeling his mood lift slightly as the car flies over the dirt roads. He does not want to marry Bruce.  He is seventeen, and more than that, Lex knows that he is a boy. Lex would be uncomfortable marrying a woman for business, but a boy? It's out of the question.

Lex stomps on the accelerator, and the car's engine makes a strained noise. Good. He eases up a bit though. He might be furious, but he doesn't have a death wish.

He knows what his father is doing. Like Kronos, living in fear of his children and deciding to destroy them. But Zeus  killed Kronos after being hidden away on an island. Lionel was hiding Lex in Gotham, and Lex is determined to take advantage of his absence.

Lionel and Thomas are trying to remove both problems, both family embarrassments at once. They have also  critically underestimated both Bruce and Lex, and outcasts can be dangerous together. Lex will find a way out of this. He has to.


	3. Act 1 Scene 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: There's transphobia ahead. Like a lot of it.

Wayne Manor

 

Bruce is reading in his room when Alfred knocks on his door. He knows that it is Alfred because no one else ever visits him here. He makes Alfred knock again.

Bruce sighs heavily and closes his copy of Crime and Punishment, using his finger as a placeholder.

"Come in, Alfred." He says, just a little crossly.

"Your mother wishes to see you, Master Bruce." Alfred says, stepping in.

"Well you can tell my mother I don't wish to see her," Bruce replies sharply. One cheek is scraped and raw. His eye is beginning to bruise. It hurts and sours his mood, though Bruce resolutely refuses anything for the pain. It is the most alive he has felt in months.

The doctor that his parents called in had smeared something sticky that smelled on it. She'd warned that Bruce might have a minor concussion, and just to keep an eye on him for a few hours. So, Bruce had been sent to his room to 'rest', which really meant his parents were sick of him, and Alfred kept interrupting his reading.

The doctor, after consulting privately with his parents, had offered him some pills that Bruce hadn't recognized. In his blunt manner, he'd informed her that they were neither Tylenol nor Advil. He hadn't asked what she was giving, and she hadn't told him. It was entirely possible that they were just stronger pain killers, the kind his father was given to taking, but Bruce didn't know and wouldn't risk it. Alfred had not been there, just his parents trying to find out whether it was serious enough to sue over. He didn't necessarily think they were trying to drug him, but he wouldn't put it past them.

"Sir?" Alfred asks patiently, interrupting Bruce's thoughts. Irritably, Bruce realizes his mind has been wandering.

"Is she drunk?" Alfred sighs. He does not regret that keeping Bruce safe is part of his job. He does regret that this protection must sometimes extend to Bruce's own mother.

"I do not believe so," he replies, "however, she is currently having a drink."

"Fucking hell," Bruce swears, putting down his book. He has the page number memorized. He propels himself up using the armrests of his chair.

"Language, sir." Alfred reminds him sternly, leading him out into the hall. Alfred does not know what Martha Wayne is planning, or he would warn Bruce. As it is, he is uneasy when Martha begins speaking to him instead of Bruce as they enter.

"How old is my daughter, Alfred?" Martha asks as Bruce throws himself into a chair opposite her. Bruce's glare is hidden by Alfred pouring tea for them. 

"Seventeen,  ma'am." Inwardly, Alfred is also bristling. He does not say anything. Everyone in the room knows that his job is contingent on playing this game.

"She's grown so fast," she sighs, and Bruce assumes this is supposed to sound fond. It only sounds hollow and false to him.  "Do you remember when she was oh, four or five, and just refused to wear dresses?" She laughs, and to Bruce the sound is sacharine and repulsive. "You never did grow out of that, did you sweetie?" Bruce's posture is stiff, his shoulders drawn up.

"Yeah," he practically growls, "most boys don't." Alfred allows himself the tiniest smile that Martha Wayne can't see. Martha laughs again. It is the light tinkling of shattered glass.

"Oh darling * _Disgrace_ *, I thought you were over this." She coos, "We've * _discussed_ * it." Bruce grinds his teeth, but doesn't reply. He can only do this so many times. "Did you see Lex Luthor come by earlier?"

"Yes." His tone is frosty.

"Well you're friends, aren't you?" Bruce stares at her.

"He's twenty three." Bruce replies shortly.

"Yes, but you're in the same circles. You see each other."

"Sure." He almost rolls his eyes, but there is only so much his mother will allow.

"Well your father and I were thinking that it would be good if the two of you spent a little more time together."

"Fine."

"Oh sweetie I don't think you understand." She leans forwards. Bruce is fighting the urge to just get up and leave. Instead, he waits for his mother to continue. Her condescension is palpable.  
"Your father and I-," so her, Bruce knew who did the heavy lifting in * _that_ * relationship, "-have been looking, and we think that Lex is a good match." She pauses, "You are almost eighteen." Her meaning strikes Alfred and Bruce at the same time. Alfred fumbles the teapot. He sets it on the cart with a thump

"Mrs. Wayne!"Alfred exclaims aghast. Bruce is laughing.

"It's ok, Alfred." He's trying not to snicker, "Alright mother."

"Pardon?" Her eyebrows are raised like she can't quite believe what she's just heard.

"He's not going to marry me, mother," Bruce smirks all over his face. "He knows I'm a boy."  Martha smiles in return. It is not a pleasant smile, it is thin and slimy, curling over her face like a snake.

"Well * _Disgrace_ *," she replies,  "Mr. Luthor has already agreed." Alfred who has been bracing himself against the cart with his back to them, turns around. "Next year, after you turn eighteen."

"Mrs. Wayne," Alfred's voice is like the crack of a whip. "This plot is abominable. Bruce is not a bargaining chip or a doll for you yo move about as you wish. He is your son and he deserves better treatment than this."  Martha stands quickly, her open hand swinging towards Alfred's face. He lets her strike him. The sound is startling. Alfred does not lower his head. It is better than her hitting Bruce.

"You are overstepping by far." Martha hisses. Alfred stares coolly at her. He is calculating the amount of pay he has saved, and the likelihood of being able to disappear with Bruce. He knows this to be impossible. The Waynes' resources far outstrip his own.

"Am I meeting him at the party tonight?" Bruce asks, moving to stand half in front of Alfred. He is shaking, but his voice is level. Alfred puts a hand on his shoulder and holds him tightly. Bruce is not sure whether this is for Alfred's comfort or his own.

"Yes," Martha replies coldly, looking down at him.

"I'm not promising anything," Bruce warns her, "But I'll talk to him." His voice turns sharp as he turns to his butler. "Alfred. I need your assistance."

"Yes, Master Bruce." Alfred murmurs. He follows Bruce into the hallway without turning back to look at Martha. He looks steadier than he feels.

Bruce doesn't say a word as he leads Alfred back to his room. He turns as soon as the door closes behind him, fury snapping in his eyes.

"What was that?" Bruce demands.

"Master Bruce," Alfred snaps back, almost raising his voice, "I am not prepared for you to act as Gotham's sacrificial lamb, simply because you have given up. I have not."

"It's not your job to intervene!" Bruce yells back. "I had everything under control and now because of you, I've had to make concessions. We've had this discussion."

"I am sorry I lost my temper." Alfred says tightly, "but she might've hit you."

"She might've," Bruce clenches his fists, "I can take it." He is not lying. He has before.

"It is not your job to endure this," Alfred says, feeling the fight drain out of him.

"It is," Bruce replies firmly, "Just let me think my way out. It's easier if I'm not also working to keep you employed. You know she doesn't like it when you call me Bruce."

"It is difficult, Master Bruce."

"I know," Bruce says. He is sympathetic, but Alfred has still broken one of their rules. "Anyways, if I really can't get out of this, Lex might not be too bad. Better than living in this cage I'm sure."

"Yes well, the grass is always greener," Alfred says dryly. Bruce rolls his eyes. He runs a hand through the front of his long hair and neither of them say anything as they relax slightly. Bruce plants himself in the same plush chair he'd been in earlier. Bruce looks at Alfred, steepling his fingers together.

"Alright," he says after a moment, "for the next part of this, you can't be anywhere around me, especially after that argument. Go get busy somewhere where lots of people can see you. I don't want you blamed for what I'm about to do."

"Master Bruce?"

"Don't worry about it Alfred, I have a plan." His grin is razor sharp. It is not reassuring.


	4. Act 1 Scene 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the formatting I wrote this on my phone.

Wayne Manor

The halls of Wayne Manor are all wheat and cream as Clark, Chloe and Pete slip into the house. Pete had gotten them through a servant's entrance, something he'd apparently learned at his last party. Neither Clark nor Chloe particularly wanted to know more than that. Ultimately, this resulted in their not having to go through security, so Clark and Chloe were able to sneak in without invitations.

The halls are quiet back here except for the click of Chloe's heels on pale marble.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Clark sighs, pulling his mask over his face. It is solid red clay with black detailing. A muscular man in a white shirt, who so clearly belongs to security is walking down the hall towards them.

"Relax Clark," Chloe says. Her mask, and Pete's are already in place. And yet, something about the three of them, probably that they are so far from the party, makes the security guard slow.

"Can I see your invitations?" He asks.

"I think  we already gave them to someone at the door, didn't we?" Chloe says. Clark and Pete are quiet, neither being particularly good liars.

"No, you didn't." The guard says, unimpressed.

"Oh wait," Pete says, pulling out the white and gold card. He hands it over. "She's my plus one." He gestures at Chloe.

"Yours?" The man asks Clark. Clark smiles sheepishly and pauses with his mouth half open as he tries to think of literally anything, but his mind has gone blank.

"He's with me," Lex Luthor appears behind him. Being bald, Lex is fairly recognizable, even under his mask, but he briefly pulls it up anyways so the security guard can see. Under his own mask, Clark is blushing, embarrassed that not only has he just been caught trying to crash the Wayne's gala, but Lex has seen him as well. The man nods and apologizes to Lex, though still eyeing Pete and Chloe as he continues on.

"How did you know it was me?" Clark asks.

"The three of you are a pretty obvious group," Lex replies easily.

"Well, I think that's our cue to go," Pete says quickly, tugging Chloe away. "See ya, Clark." Clark scowls at Pete's retreating back, just catching a glimpse of Chloe's apologetic expression as Pete drags her off.

"Looks like that makes you my date," Lex remarks.

"Don't tell pa," Clark half laughs. It isn't really funny. Lex looks at him sideways and doesn't laugh.

They make idle conversation, falling mostly quiet as they enter the ballroom. Thomas Wayne has just finished making some kind of speech that nobody is really interested in and the orchestra starts playing something complicated and quick, like threads of gold shot through a burgundy fabric. It isn't a full orchestra, but Clark doesn't know this, he is awed by the grandeur and pomp of it all. The ceilings soar to impossible heights above them, hanging with glittering gold chandeliers. Even above the orchestra is the noise of murmured coversation,  laughter, and the clink of glasses as party goers make merry.

"Stop staring, farm boy." Lex laughs.

"I've never been to a Wayne party before," Clark admits, still taking everything in. The room is very large and very full of people, many of whom are already dancing, women whirling around in a dazzling array of colour.

"That doesn't surprise me," Lex smirks, "given your father's relationship to the Waynes."

"He's just trying to protect the city and the farm," Clark protests without looking. "Wayne Enterprises doesn't exactly have the best track record with its environmental policies." It is an old and familiar argument, one Clark has had with Lex about Luthor Corp. as well.

"Right," Lex says. He is scanning the crowd under his black, half phantom mask, not wanting to engage in this debate again. They both know it's pointless anyways and there's no real heat in them. This is really Jonathan's fight.

Lex finds the Waynes, still standing together. The family theme seems to be black and blue. In her slim, glittering blue dress, Martha Wayne reminds Lex of an icicle. She and Thomas are wearing matching black masks. Bruce's mask is also metal, but brushed light blue. Lex almost doesn't recognize him. All of Bruce's thick black hair has been shorn, leaving it short and bristly, sticking up in front. Lex grins at the kid's boldness. He * _knows_ * Martha  didn't approve that.

"I didn't know the Waynes had a son," Clark says conversationally.

"That's Bruce, you probably do know him." Lex replies.

"Wait... Bruce?" Clark asks, trying to scan his face from across the room, "Isn't that what they're calling Disgrace now?" Lex turns to scowl at him.

"His name is Bruce. And before you ask, no he isn't their daughter. He's their son. He's transgender."

"Oh," Clark says, "Sorry. Bruce then." There is a quiet moment before Clark says contemplative and almost to himself, "He's cute." Lex lets out a short laugh. Clark has a distant look on his face. It's something Lex had recently come to associate with Lena. Clark is * _such_ * an open book.

"I'll introduce you," Lex says, his good humour returned.

"Lex, I dunno," Clark says. Correctly guessing what he's worried about, Lex hums.

"Relax. I'll bring him over here. You won't have to talk to his parents."  Clark agrees, though still somewhat reluctant. He tries to smooth his suit as Lex makes his way across the floor to where the Waynes are still standing as a family.

Having basically pushed his way through the throngs of people, Lex approaches the Waynes. Only Martha really notices him.  
"Hello," he says pleasantly, "I was wondering if I could borrow Bruce for a moment? It's Lex under here, if you can't tell." Martha regards him coldly. Thomas glares. To them this is the ultimate snub. To Lex, this is basic decency towards Bruce, but also a handy way to remind them of his noncompliance. 

" _Di_ _sgrace,_  you're needed." Martha snaps.

"Yes I heard, mother." Bruce steps around her, smirking. He follows Lex back across the room. They take a more circuitous route this time because Lex doesn't want Bruce to get trampled on the dance floor, but also to discourage Martha or Thomas from watching them.

Bruce is the first to speak. "I know you agreed to marry me, but I didn't." His tone is quiet, but fierce. Lex frowns at him.

"I didn't either. I'm going to work something out."

"Hn. Okay. I assume that's what you wanted to talk about?"

"No. Actually," Lex deftly dodges a woman's stray elbow. "I want to introduce you to someone." They find Clark who has begun to sink back towards the walls. "This is Clark. Clark, this is Bruce."

"Pleased to meet you," Bruce says, extending his hand.

"Yeah," Clark says, shaking it. Even though Clark is several inches taller than Bruce, he is intimidated. Bruce is wearing a black silk shirt with loose, cuffed sleeves covered by a light blue vest. Over his shoulders and fastened high on his neck with a pale blue gem, is a black cape. Clark feels self conscious. His is wearing a suit he snuck from his father's closet.

"You look amazing," Clark tells him. Bruce grins.

"Thank you, I like your mask." Lex is watching with an expression neither of them quite know how to read.

"Alright, I have to go make sure my father isn't doing anything illegal while I'm preoccupied. I'll see you both later." Neither of them really acknowledge his joke.

He walks away. Selina watches him go. She has, if she admits it to herself, been following him since the party started. She is not sure whether it's because she finds him attractive, or because he has a very expensive watch that she wants to appropriate. However she is standing with Thomas Wayne now. She'd reached him just as Lex had gone off with Bruce, and Martha, thinking she was one of Thomas' flings, had gone off in a huff. They haven't really been talking, but as she watches Lex leave, Selina has a flash of insight.

"That's a Montague," she says accusingly. She turns to face Thomas when he doesn't immediately react.

"This isn't your silly school feud, is it?" He asks with disapproval. Selina scowls at him.

"Clark Kent?" She asks, raising thin brows. Thomas doesn't react. "I'm going to * _talk_ * to him," she growls.

"You will not." Thomas says, "I don't need Officer Gordon showing up to a brawl at my estate."

"So you're cool with him chatting up your kid?" She demands.

"I'm sure he's doing no such thing. Despite his father, I've heard Clark is a fine young man." Selina glares at him.

"He's going to ruin your party," she says.

"You're being childish." Thomas tells her   sharply. "I don't want to hear any more about it. Don't you bother Martha with this either. He's one boy."

"It's your funeral," Selina snaps, storming off. Thomas sighs and leaves to find his wife.

Bruce notices as soon as both of his parents are out of the room. He has been listwning to Clark, but he has also been watching. He interupts Clark's story midsentence.

"Dance with me." Bruce demands.

"Sorry?" Clark asks, bewildered.

"Dance with me." He repeats impatiently.

"I don't really know how," Clark confesses. He knows the basics because it is for some reason included in the Montague gym curriculum, but he was never very good even at that.

"I'll lead." Bruce says.

"We'll cause a scene." 

"It's my party," Bruce replies with a strange sort of grim good humour, "and I'll dance if I want to." Clark chuckles and ducks his head and takes the hand that Bruce offers him.

People do watch them dance,  but Clark doesn't know what part is his uncoordinated efforts to follow the smaller boy's lead, what part is two boys dancing, and what part is Bruce Wayne actually dancing for once. Clark is still nervous.

"You _are_  wearing a mask," Bruce murmurs. This helps somewhat, but Clark doesn't really reply because he is busy concentrating, trying not to step on Bruce's feet, or be distracted by Bruce's hand in his.

The waltz ends, and Clark is surprised when Bruce tips him back and kisses him softly on the mouth. They stand apart and Clark is ruffled, breathing a little heavily. Bruce appears cool and unaffected, but his heart is racing in his chest.

"Meet me on the balcony," he says breathlessly, indicating the doors at the far end of the room. "I think I can sneak us some champagne." He's grinning hugely. Clark's smile is shy, his cheeks pink, but he nods and goes where he's told.

Clark takes a deep breath as he steps out onto the balcony. It is not country air, but it is cool and refreshing after the heat of the ballroom. He glances back to check on Bruce, and realizes he can see almost nothing inside from this angle. He wonders if Bruce had anticipated this.

Bruce appears shortly with two glasses of champagne and hands one to Clark. They stand at the rail together, looking up at the stars. They aren't as bright as on the farm, but they still make Clark feel safe. He's glad that Bruce can see them too.

Clark takes a gulp of his champagne and almost spits it out.

"This is gross," he makes a face as Bruce laughs.  
"It's alcohol, it's not supposed to taste good." He's still grinning as he takes an appropriately sized sip. "Just drink it a bit slower." Clark grumbles, but he does and it isn't as bad this time. Clark glances over at Bruce, and he is staring up at the sky, blue eyes soft.

"Do you know constellations?" Clark asks him. Bruce shakes his head. Clark moves behind him, places one hand on his shoulder and points with the other. Bruce presses his back into Clark's chest and for a moment, they are both perfectly still. Clark begins showing him constellations. It's harder than he thought it would be, and after Orion and the Big Dipper they are both laughing quietly, a little breathlessly.

"I'm glad I came," Clark says softly. Bruce grins and sets his champagne on the rail. He turns to wrap an arm around Clark's waist.

"I'm glad you came too." If feels like a confession. He looks up at Clark in the semi darkness and touches the side of his face almost tentatively. Clark leans down and kisses him gently. Bruce brushes his hand through Clark's hair, surprised at how soft it is. Their kiss is not deep and passionate, it's more a small series of kisses, sweet and innocent.

Clark has not kissed many boys and he is timid, awed that he is kissing someone as good looking and intelligent as Bruce. In just this moment he is not afraid that his father will find out, or that he's doing it wrong, he's just kissing  the most beautiful boy he's ever met.

Bruce is thinking along similar lines. He isn't worrying about his parents, or how this could look. Bruce is kissing someone who makes his stomach do flips, who makes him feel things he hasn't before. The moment is perfect, but brief.

The doors behind them burst open and they jump apart like startled rabbits.

"Master Bruce," Alfred hisses. Clark takes a hard breath and leans against the railing, knocking Bruce's neglected champagne to the patio below where is smashes. Clark is shaking, forgetting that he is masked and Alfred cannot see his face.

"Alfred!" Bruce snaps back. "Not now."

"This is entirely inappropriate." Alfred says in a low, dangerous voice.

"I don't care."

Clark can barely breathe. "Sorry," he whispers, shoving past Alfred and back into the ballroom. He doesn't really know where he's going, just that he can't stay.

"Wait!" Bruce moves to follow him, but Alfred grabs his arm. "Let go of me," Bruce yells, trying to wrench away. Alfred is stronger than he is though, and grabs him with both hands.

"Bloody hell," Alfred snaps, "I didn't come out here just to interupt your fun lad. Your mother is looking for you." Bruce goes limp and Alfred almost drops him on the floor.

"I don't want to see her." He says hollowly, and then in a whisper, "I don't even know his last name." Bruce leans his head into Alfred's chest. Alfred runs a hand over Bruce's hair.

"Clark Kent," he says, sighing. He knows he'll regret it later. He has no idea quite how much. Bruce backs away, his face ashen.

"He's a Kent?"

"I'm afraid so," Alfred says, "Now. Chin up. Your mother's waiting." He squeezes Bruce's shoulder and goes in. Bruce takes a few deep breaths and follows him.

Only the stars remain, impassive and bright, a calm witness of what is to come.


	5. Act 2 Scene 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reviews guys it keeps me going
> 
> Tw for homophobia slurs and DV it's a rough chapter

The Kent Farm

It is a few days after the party when Clark gets home late again. He hadn't been in too much trouble the first time, mostly because he hadn't woken up either of his parents, but he isn't quite so late today.

Clark can smell cheap beer as soon as he opens the door. He closes the screen door carefully, wary of letting it rattle even slightly. He's only a half hour late though, unless his pa is * _really_ * drunk, he doubts there will be a problem. The tv is still on, and Clark hopes he's fallen asleep watching it. He slips past the entrance to the den and gets about halfway up the steps before one of them creaks under his weight.

"Clark." His pa's voice is sharp. It isn't a question, but a summons. Clark bites the inside of his cheek before reluctantly turning and retracing his steps.

"Hey," he says awkwardly, standing in front of Jonathan's armchair.

"Do you know what time it is?" Jonathan  demands.

"Ten thirty." Clark says, defeat colouring his tone. He studies his feet, curling his toes against the thin carpet that covers the house's old wood floors.

"Your curfew's at ten. Where have you been?" Clark doesn't understand why his pa is so mad.

"I was just at Pete's. We lost track of time. I'm sorry." He glances up quickly, then back down.

"That's a lousy excuse, son."

"I said I'm sorry. I don't know what you want from me." Clark protests, his cheeks flushing. He's angry now, but he's still glaring at the floor.

"What I want, Clark, is for you to follow the rules of this household," Jonathan replies, standing as his voice rises. "Something you seem to be having an awful lot of trouble with lately."

"I don't know--,"

"Bullshit!" Jonathan interrupts him. Clark instinctively takes a step back. "Did you think I wouldn't hear about your little party?" Clark's blood runs cold in his veins as his stomach drops. "I've told you before that while you're under my roof, I won't have any of that faggotry." Clark's breath catches in his throat. "It's fucking embarrassing." Clark is staring at his father, emotion welling up in him. Absurdly, he has the desire to laugh. _Faggotry_ is apparently a word that people actually use. 

"It's--," Clark stammers slightly.  He wants to defend himself, but he doesn't know what to say. "It's none of your business who I kiss." Clark can feel a layer of heat simmering just below his skin. He realizes, belatedly, that he'd just given away more information. Jonathan's face is dark with rage.

"Get out." He yells. Clark feels lightheaded, unreal. "You can sleep in the barn with the other animals." Clark doesn't move until his pa shoves him, and he stumbles backwards. He gives his pa a long, blank look, eyes as wide as a doe's. 

Clark gets himself outside, walks like a zombie to the barn. It's not warm out, but there are blankets and a couch in the loft. The persistent sense of unreality follows him as he makes up a bed. The blankets are scratchy with bits of hay, and wind whistles through cracks in the rough wood walls to chill him. Clark doesn't sleep for a long time, just replays the night on a loop, trying to figure out exactly what went wrong. Eventually though, the tape in his head falters and fades to darkness and though it is fitful, he does sleep.


	6. Act 2 Scene 2

Gotham City

 

Clark spends the next day largely avoiding everyone, particularly Lex, who he knows has been looking for him. He just doesn't want to deal with it. The only person Clark wants to see right now, is Bruce. They need to talk. The sting of his pa's words follows him. Clark doesn't know whether he actually wants to process them, or just try to forget as best he can. He'd come to breakfast late that morning, deliberately missing him. Ma had apologized to him, smoothed his hair, explained that it was just 'Jonathan's way'. Clark didn't know what that meant. He's not sure it matters anyway.

Clark sighs into his milkshake. He's been in this diner since school let out, waiting  for it to get dark out. He pays and goes out to his truck. It is only a brief drive to the Wayne Estate from here, made a little longer by how far away he parks the truck. Clark hopes no one sees it or recognizes it as his, but it is a possibility. Still, he has to see Bruce. Clark walks through the woods until he gets to the vast manicured lawn. There's a few men patrolling the grounds, flashlight beams cutting through the darkness. But there aren't many, and they don't look difficult to avoid. Clark waits until they are headed away, then sprints across the lawn and flattens himself against the stone wall. He is reminded of one of Pete's video games. The wall is old, the stones cool beneath his fingers. It is not as difficult to climb as he'd expected. Clark digs his fingers into the crumbling mortar and hauls himself over.

Clark realizes, as he falls unceremoniously into a thick bush, that he has no idea where Bruce's room is. As he wanders through the garden, Clark gradually becomes aware of a low murmuring. He gets closer and recognizes that it is Bruce. He's out on his balcony talking to himself quietly. Clark doesn't say anything for a moment. He leans against a tree and just looks. The moonlight silvers Bruce's skin and makes him look beautiful and otherworldly. His eyes are captive stars.

Clark steps forward and a branch cracks under his foot. Bruce's head snaps up, dreaminess replaced with ferocity.

"Who's there?" He calls.

"It's me." Clark says, stepping out of the shadows. Bruce visibly relaxes.

"Clark," he whispers harshly, "what are you doing here?"

"I'm coming up," Clark whispers back. He looks around. There's no way he can climb the wall, but the tree gets pretty close. Clark ignores Bruce, who is trying to get him to stop. He gets to the same level as the balcony and realises what Bruce has been saying. The tree's too far away. He might not make it if he jumped, and they'd likely make a lot of noise. Clark scowls at the tree branch he's clinging to.

"I told you," Bruce says irritably.

"Yeah, you did." Clark agrees. He sits up, scooting out as far as he dares along the trembling limb.

"If someone sees you, you're going to be in trouble." Bruce informs him. "You could be shot." He folds his arms and glares.

"I'm willing to take that chance," Clark says, grinning as Bruce's scowl deepens. "I had to see you."

"And this is the best way to do that?"

"You never leave!" Clark replies, trying to keep his voice down. Bruce grumbles. It's true, but he doesn't want to admit it.

"Ok," Bruce sighs, "So what's up?" Clark instantly becomes serious. He looks down at the rough bark beneath his palms.

"Bruce we cant-- my pa found out. We can't do this." His voice is barely audible. The rustling leaves almost drown him out.

"What?" Bruce asks, a little louder than is safe. "Clark?" He can't find the words. Clark picks at the tree.

"He doesn't like that I'm bi." Clark confesses. "I don't think he knows that it was * _you_ *. I think it's just," he struggles, feeling choked, "the gay thing."

Bruce swallows hard. "Tell him I'm a girl," he says quietly. And just this once, just for Clark,  this is a sacrifice he is willing to make.

"Absolutely not," Clark replies hotly. "I won't do that to you. And anyways then he'd just be mad about me seeing a Wayne."

"I don't know what else to do," Bruce whispers. He leans on the rail and buries his head in his hands, feels the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders.

"Well what about you? We can run away. " Clark suggests. "Deny thy father and refuse thy name." He can't remember where the quote is from. Bruce smiles, but it is a pained thing.

"I think I've got the second part already," he jokes weakly. "I can't run Clark. They'll find me." The truth hangs painfully between them.

"It's gonna be ok, Bruce." Clark murmurs. He reaches out to touch him, but there is too much distance between them. His hand falls. "We'll figure something out."

"Bruce!" Both boys startle, and Clark flattens himself against the branch.

"Just a second, Alfred!" Bruce calls, trying to keep his voice level. "Get out of here!" Bruce hisses.

"I'm coming back for you," Clark whispers fiercely.

"Master Bruce, why is this door locked?" The handle rattles ominously.

"I'm getting dressed!" Bruce shouts back. He whirls to face Clark. "Go!" Bruce turns back inside and steps in before carefully closing the balcony door. He checks Clark is gone before stalking to the door Alfred has been knocking on and yanking it open.

"What do you want?" He snaps. Alfred raises his eyebrows.

"I came to check up on you," he says primly. "A security guard reported suspicious activity. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"You mean you wanted to check I was still here," Bruce corrects him, almost grinning.

"And here you are," Alfred says. He gives Bruce a long, deliberate look. "Though not in your pyjamas." One eyebrow inches back up.

"I didn't have them out yet and you were about to break down my door," Bruce replies grumpily. It is a good lie, and yet Alfred doesn't look entirely convinced. "Can I go to bed now?" Bruce asks with exaggerated patience. "Or would you like to check my bed and closets for monsters, first?" He keeps a straight face as Alfred huffs.

"Perhaps I'll let them eat you," Alfred replies. He sounds irritated, but they both know that it is a pretext with affection beneath it.

"Goodnight Al." Bruce says, putting his hand on the door handle.

"Goodnight sir." Alfred lets him close the door. A frown briefly crosses his face. Alfred touches Bruce's door before turning to go. He has other  business to attend to.


End file.
